What Dreams May Come
by b7-kerravon
Summary: It was just a routine trading mission still, nothing is ever 'routine' with the Fab Four. Leave it to them to encounter a freak meteor storm...Guess who gets hurt? CHP 7 up, COMPLETE!
1. The Crash

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.

AN: If you like this story, be sure to check out my other _Atlantis_ stories: Lessons in Leadership and The Tournament

**What Dreams May Come...**

By Kerr Avon

The Puddle Jumper headed back toward the Stargate, and their new home in Atlantis. All-in-all, it had been a successful mission, and the group was in an upbeat mood. They had managed to trade some extraneous items for foodstuffs and some basic medical supplies on the world they had just left, and the agrarian society had been so pleased with the barter that they had thrown in several barrels of their local alcoholic brew, which were now safely strapped down in back. Rather than grapes, the beverage contained a distillate of a local fruit which was violet in color and about the size and shape of a peach. It was slightly fuzzy, but the skin could be eaten without detracting from its taste, and it fermented into quite a nice wine. They had each consumed a ceremonial cup full at the beginning and end of negotiations, and had found it quite palatable.

"So, do you think Weir will let us throw a party?" Ford asked hopefully.

"I don't see why not." Sheppard tried to maintain the jovial atmosphere, but found himself distracted by piloting the Jumper. There was quite a bit more debris on the return trip to the gate than on the journey out, and it took all his concentration to avoid it.

Wrenching the ship aside to avoid a suddenly-streaking meteorite that had edged a little too close, he called out jokingly, "Please remain seated with your hands inside the ride at all times."

"What's going on?" Rodney immediately did the opposite, jumping up and standing between the two pilot's seats, trying to get a better view out the front. He hung on for dear life as Sheppard wrestled the vessel the opposite direction, barely avoiding a strike.

"Meteor storm." The Major was grim. "I mean it, McKay; _sit down_."

As the Jumper lurched to the left, the astrophysicist gulped and nodded, hurriedly resuming his seat across from Teyla and grabbing tightly to the packing cords on the supplies nearest him. He noted that Teyla had wound her arm _into_ the straps near her, and copied the action. It did seem to add a little security to his hold.

The shuttle was buffeted by debris from a near-miss as Sheppard lined up the gate and Ford began dialing the code. Ford hung onto the console in front of him and began transmitting his ident as soon as the wormhole was established. They had almost made the point where the automatics kicked in, when one of the chunks of space detritus finally hit home and sent them spinning out of control.

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"What's happening?" Weir asked as she entered the control room. This was supposed to be a low-risk trading mission, nothing fancy. How much trouble could the Fearless Foursome get into? Of course, they had met the Genii on a trading mission...

Squashing that thought, she listened carefully to the reply. "There was an incoming gate from the area where the recon team deployed, and we got Ford's ident, but then nothing. We've tried hailing them but without success; at least they're not stuck again." That was another memory Weir suppressed with a shudder.

Just then the gate closed altogether. "It was cut off from their side." commented the man at the controls, swinging towards his commander.

"Let's give them thirty minutes to reestablish contact." Weir was determined. "In the meantime, get a rescue team suited up and ready to launch."

"Yes ma'am."

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"Ford, we've got structural damage on the starboard hull! I can't compensate for drift; try increasing the boost on that side." Sheppard was concentrating at the helm, directing it mentally to what was needed and in what order.

"No go; we're at maximum as it is on that engine. Any more and we'll blow it out."

"We need to set down somewhere we can patch up. I'm thinking about....the nearest safe place, preferably with a breathable atmosphere, to land and effect repairs." Diagrams and complex maps appeared on the viewscreen. "Right...there." Sheppard jabbed at a particular circle with his index finger. "That's it."

Ford nodded silently, lips set in a determined line, eyes fixed on his own monitors. Within minutes their objective hove into view; a greenish-white orb circling a small yellow sun. "Entering atmosphere," the major announced unnecessarily.

The ride got significantly rougher as the air currents circled and eddied irregularly over the gash in the hull. Sheppard had to use all his strength just to keep their trajectory level and concentrate on finding a clear landing site. By the time he spotted a relatively flat field in which to alight, he was covered in sweat. As strained systems gave up the ghost with a _pop_ or _bang_, the task became exponentially more difficult.

"There." He pointed the spot out with his chin, as he couldn't spare his hands from the controls.

"Got it." Ford began cutting back the thrusters and applying reverse engine power to slow their descent. As the engines changed direction a plume of smoke rose from the control panel in front of Sheppard, which then exploded outwards in a shower of sparks and flame.

"Aarrrgggh!" Sheppard's hands reflexively flew to his face, leaving the Lieutenant to suddenly wrestle the Jumper to the ground on his own.

"Major! Sir, are you all right?" Ford cried out as a wind gust pushed the vessel sideways and he forced it back to target.

"Ah...ahh...yeah...just peachy...ah..." The major managed as he panted through the pain. His eyes were on fire, and his face felt shredded. He could hardly think through the red haze, but ground out, "Ford...can you...handle...this?'

"Yes, sir." Ford was steady. If he couldn't, they were dead; Sheppard was in no shape to assist. "Everybody hang on; this'll be rough."

McKay and Teyla tightened their grip on the netting as the ground rushed up to meet them, but Sheppard couldn't move his hands to brace himself. Ford managed to slam the Jumper down hard, but level. Still, the occupants were tossed about the compartment like crash test dummies. Sheppard's head struck his mangled console with a thud, and his world went mercifully black.


	2. Reconnaissance

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.

**2: Reconnaissance**

McKay groaned and clutched his arm. A low light filtered in through the glass, illuminating everything in shades of gray. Despite the netting and ropes, a number of the crates had come loose and splintered, spilling their contents haphazardly around the cabin. Carefully palpating a lump on his forearm, he flexed his fingers experimentally and decided that it wasn't broken.

"Is everybody all right?" Ford's voice filtered back from the copilot's seat.

"Depends on your definition," muttered McKay, struggling to a sitting position.

"Teyla?" Ford queried.

"I am bruised, but otherwise unharmed."

McKay suppressed a surge of jealousy; the woman never got hurt. He was becoming convinced that it might take nuclear weapons to seriously injure her.

"How are you and the Major?" she continued.

"I'll be fine, but Sheppard's out cold." Ford's fingers sought out and found his commander's carotid, and released the breath he didn't realize he was holding as it pulsed strong and steady. Standing on wobbly legs, he moved over to better assess the situation.

Major Sheppard was slumped forward over the control panel, right arm flung above his head, left dangling at his side. Easing him back in his chair, the Lieutenant frowned at the scorch marks and swelling around the man's face and eyes, as well as the mass he could see developing beneath a small, stellate laceration on his forehead. Glancing down at the main control panel, he grimly noted the charred remains of what used to be the pilot's console. It looked like something had overloaded and blown it out, right into Sheppard's face.

McKay and Teyla had come forward by this time. "Help me get him on the floor." Ford began maneuvering the unconscious man out of the seat.

"Do you think that's wise?" asked Rodney nervously. He hated situations that were out of his control, and this seemed about as 'out' as they got.

Ford pursed his lips. "I don't know, but it beats leaving him here." So saying, the three of them managed to get the man supine. Teyla wadded up a jacket for a makeshift pillow, and used another for a blanket.

"Is it me, or is it getting cold in here?" McKay shivered slightly to emphasize his point.

Teyla looked up from where she was settling in the injured soldier. "You are right, Doctor, it is."

Ford rose and headed for the forward console, noting that the muted light was in part due to the ice coating the front glass. He found the external sensors and breathed a sigh of relief to discover several of them still functional, although the visual scanners were not.

"Let me look." McKay shouldered past him and started flipping toggles. "Breathable atmosphere, some moisture available, plant life; outside temperature is about 25 degrees Fahrenheit, however. Livable, but cold."

"Could be worse," Ford murmured reflectively.

"Oh, and how do you figure that?" Rodney snapped irritably, digging out the emergency medical kit and blankets from behind the pilot's seat.

"It might've been hard vacuum." Ford reminded him of their recent experience of being lodged in the gate itself.

McKay paused, then began his rooting through the medical pack, handing appropriate items to Teyla. "Well, yes. At least this time we can expect a rescue."

Teyla looked up from where she was cleaning and bandaging the Major's face and flushing his eyes out with water. "How will they know where we are?"

"The ship has an automatic distress beacon. They should be able to pick it up as soon as they come through the gate." Thinking about it, Ford stood to make certain that it was functioning. "Damn it," he cursed under his breath.

Rodney was instantly alarmed. "What's wrong?" He rose and hurried over to where the young man was sorting through the debris of the main panel.

"The beacon is in the section of the console that fried upon landing."

"Aren't we back on Fortros? They will just search the planet until they find us." Teyla was quietly optimistic.

McKay had moved to examine the damaged panel himself. "No, I don't think so. The atmospheric components are different, and we didn't have time to make it all the way back there. My guess is that this is a habitable planet somewhere between the Gate and TL 635." He stated this rather blandly, as he was absorbed in assessing the destruction.

"The Major did say something about 'need a safe place to set down' right after we were hit with that meteorite. You know how the technology reads his mind; it probably showed him the closest inhabitable world, and he made a beeline for it." Ford had caught the diagrams out of the corner of his eye.

"Won't Atlantis figure that out and come for us?" McKay found Teyla's faith vaguely nauseating.

"Would you care to bet your life on that? Because I wouldn't." McKay had scrambled beneath the console and removed the access panel.

"See if you can get the beacon working; I'll go scout around outside." Ford automatically took charge.

McKay shot him a 'what do you think I'm doing, you idiot?' look, but didn't waste the breath to comment. Ford reclaimed his vest now that John was covered with an emergency blanket, checked his sidearm, and hit the hatch release. A blast of cold air hit them, cutting off as Ford closed the entrance from the outside.

Carefully walking the perimeter, Ford had to grin. OK, the landing may have been a little hard, but he had set down in the center of the proposed landing zone, and had landed flatly, thereby not further injuring the Jumper. Not too shabby, considering.

He paused when he reached the area of the meteorite strike; while the object that struck them was probably no larger than a pebble, the rent it made was jagged and almost 18 inches long, with curled, irregular edges. _'I wonder what we have on board to repair this?'_ He snorted; if he could get the _Major_ to 'wonder' about it, a repair kit would likely materialize from thin air.

As he surveyed the landscape, he noted that the light had definitely increased in the few minutes he'd been outside. "Hmm...must be morning," he commented to himself. _'At least that means it'll get warmer rather than colder.' _Examining the surrounding area revealed numerous trees, the sound of some insects, and the babbling of nearby running water. Weapon held at ready, he moved carefully towards the sound and was rewarded by finding a small brook just inside the treeline. _'Well, that solves one problem,'_ he thought, _'although it might have been fun to stay hydrated on that purplepeach wine...'_ At that he retraced his steps to the craft and keyed open the door.

-----------------------------------------------

"All right, you have a go." Weir spoke over the intercom to the jumper bay, where Jumper Two impatiently waited. There had been no further contact, and Weir needed to discover what had happened to her team. Hopefully, it was nothing more than an equipment malfunction, but somehow she doubted it.

The wormhole established with a _whoosh_ as the iris to the jumper bay opened above. However, the ship had not yet begun to descend when a projectile shot from the event horizon and impacted the console at the far side of the room, exploding in a shower of sparks. "Abort!" shouted the commander. "Shut down the gate!"

Words became actions almost instantaneously, and the gateway flicked out of existence. "All right, people, I want answers, and I want them _yesterday_." Weir was emphatic. "What just happened?"


	3. Waking Up Is Hard To Do

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.

**3: Waking Up is Hard to Do...**

Sheppard moaned as consciousness returned. The last thing he remembered was the ship getting swiped by that meteorite as they were on final approach to the Gate, and half the systems subsequently going dead. Going through to Atlantis was not an option at that point, as he didn't have enough helm control to safely 'thread the needle'. Just as they were approaching the landing site he had picked out, the panel in front of him went up with a bang, and he knew no more.

As he came to, he realized that he was lying on a hard surface with a heat-retaining blanket spread over him. His head seemed to be resting on something soft, and there was a cool, damp washcloth on his forehead. His skull felt as if it were going to emulate the front control console, and his eyes still ached terribly. Moaning, he tried to open them, only to find that they were bandaged closed. "Teyla?" he asked, sensing her presence nearby.

"Major, please be still." Teyla's voice carried an innate authority that demanded obedience.

Ford's voice spoke next. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my head's full of detonating C-4, but otherwise all right." He winced at the loudness of his own voice, and lowered it. "How is everyone else?"

It never ceased to amaze her how he managed to be concerned about them when he was in worse shape than anyone else. "We're fine," she assured the prostrate man.

"Why can't I open my eyes?" He sounded frustrated.

"When the panel exploded, it damaged quite a bit of your face. When I went to clean the wounds, there was quite a bit of foreign material in your eyes themselves, and they appeared burnt. I washed them out, but I think we should keep them covered until Dr. Beckett can examine you."

Sheppard had to admit that it was the most prudent course of action, but then a thought occurred to him. "Wait a second. How are we going to get out of here if I can't see?" A small edge of worry tinted his tones; he suspected that his sight would ultimately be fine, but what if his vision was permanently compromised? What good was a blind pilot?

"I've gotten the distress beacon working again, and we have enough food to last us for months." McKay was already munching on one of the fresh traumatically-uncrated fruits they had recently acquired.

Teyla continued hopefully, "I'm sure a rescue party will be along any minute."

"No, they won't." Rodney spoke around a mouthful of the violet fruit. "Meteor shower, remember? They'll have to wait for it to clear enough to launch, if they don't assume we've been destroyed altogether. That could potentially take weeks!"

McKay's chewing slowed as he realized the truth in his own statements. "You know, I'd better get working on the environmental controls next. I don't want to wait potentially weeks in the cold." The major heard him move off as the pain in his own skull swelled and awareness slid away.

---------------------------------------------

"Definitely a meteorite." Simmons poked the stone fragment that had obliterated the console in the gateroom. "See the crystallization here? Mostly iron, with a trace of iridium."

Wear sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "So we opened the Gate into a meteor storm? What about our people on the other side?"

Zelenka was hopeful. "It is almost certainly temporary. The reconnaissance party probably recognized that they couldn't get safely through and aborted. They are probably back on the planet making better friends with the natives."

Playing 'Devil's Advocate', Kavanagh threw in his two cents. "Or they could have been struck by an asteroid and instantly obliterated."

Simmons shot him a nasty look. She had developed an intense dislike of the man over the few months they had been on Atlantis. "Most probably the truth lies somewhere in between. My guess is that the jumper was damaged and they're either adrift or managed to set down on a nearby planet, and are currently awaiting rescue."

Zelenka nodded. "Yes, that _is_ the most probable scenario."

"In any event, we're not able to do anything until the storm clears."

"I would propose that we open the gate, shields up, once an hour to monitor its progress. As soon as we're clear, Jumper Two can get underway." Grodin suggested.

"Too much power drain." Kavanagh objected.

"Well then, every two hours until it looks like the debris is clearing, then every hour thereafter." Simmons wanted to do something childish, like stick her tongue out at him, but managed to control herself.

Grodin and Zelenka nodded agreement, and Weir, glancing around the group, stated, "All right, that's our plan for the time being. Dismissed."

She strode back to the command center, still dissatisfied but realistic. _'I hate waiting!'_ she fumed, as she took a seat where she could watch the Gate.

---------------------------------------------------

Sheppard awoke the second time to a blast of cold air coming from the region of the hatch as Ford entered the Jumper. "Well, I don't think we could do a better patch job if we were in Atlantis!" he crowed proudly, brushing the dirt off his hands. "How's the Major?"

John unsuccessfully tried to open his eyes, then remembered the bandages. He settled for croaking, "The Major is sore and hungry, thank you."

Teyla's warmth was instantly at his side. "You're awake again!"

He flinched at the volume. "Yeah, I guess so." His voice was hoarse. "Keep it down, OK?"

"Sorry." Teyla sounded genuinely embarrassed.

"So, what's our status?" He didn't know how long he'd been out, but it felt like several hours at least.

"Well, I've gotten our life support back on line; note the comfortable temperature in here?" McKay was smug. "If we can get this bird spaceworthy, the air recyclers are functioning again, too."

"Here, you must eat." Teyla placed a fruit into his hand. Feeling it carefully with his other, he figured that it was the fuzzy peach-like purple one that had been his favorite on Fortros. Flattered that she had noticed which he preferred, he nodded and brought it to his lips.

"What do you think of 'purplepeach' as a name for that?" Ford asked, biting into one himself.

"I thought we agreed that you weren't going to be naming things anymore."

The lieutenant shrugged, then continued the status report. "I've patched the hole in the hull with a repair kit that Rodney found. It'll hold as long as the hull itself does." Ford was clearly proud of his work. "Our next project will be the shorted out console at the pilot's position. Once that's done, we can kick up the engines and see if they fire." Sheppard didn't need to see to know that Ford was ticking points off on his fingers.

"What about the planet we're on? Any hostiles?" Sheppard wanted to know their situation in its entirety.

Ford answered though a mouthful of food, causing the Major to reflect that McKay was being a bad influence on the young soldier. "No hostiles, no friendlies, no animal life of any intelligence. There is vegetation, although I don't know if there is anything edible, and there's a running source of water about a hundred yards off our port side. It's a little nippy, ranging from ten to fifty degrees Fahrenheit, but otherwise not too bad."

"That's good. We may be here a while." He finished his fruit and started feeling about for another. Teyla placed one in his hand. "Thanks." He smiled crookedly at her in a way that warmed her heart.

"You're welcome."

Teyla pulled out a different edible from their recent acquisitions, and began peeling it. She hadn't cared much for the 'purplepeach'. The group ate a while in companionable silence, until Sheppard's head started nodding forward. Gently touching his shoulder, Teyla suggested, "It has become dark outside, and we have had a long day. Perhaps we should turn in for the night."

"Yeah, sure." John was so tired his words slurred slightly. He allowed the Pegasus galaxy native to ease him back down to the floor and cover him with a blanket. "Could use a nap." He was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth.

Teyla caught Ford's eye and exchanged a worried look. "I hope they come for us soon."

"I wouldn't count on it; we don't know how soon they'll be able to safely come through the gate." Ford was calm. "Best if we keep working on rescuing ourselves. I'll take the first watch."

Rodney almost choked on a mouthful of his third fruit. "I thought there weren't any hostiles."

Ford fixed him with a stare. "Not as far as we _know_. I'd rather not find out the hard way."

McKay gulped, but didn't reply.

"I'll take the middle watch. I have always been able to fall back asleep quickly, so it doesn't other me too much."

"That leaves you the early A.M. shift. You able to manage that?" Ford pointedly asked the scientist.

He almost objected that it wasn't in his job description, but one glance at the Lieutenant's face made him just nod instead. "Sure, no problem."

TBC....

AN: I don't know if anyone else is having this problem, but FFnet is not counting 'hits' on this story at the moment, so I don't know if anyone is reading it unless they leave reviews. I'm _assuming_ people like this as well as my others, but I currently seem to have no way of telling. By the way, for you shippers out there...I just haven't picked up on a 'ship' I like in this universe. There are several I can 'see' happening (Shep/Wier, Teyla/Ford, etc) but none grab me. I'll let you know when they do...


	4. These Dreams

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.

**4: These Dreams**

_The woman was dressed in diaphanous material of every color, ornamented with jingling coins and chains. She began a slow, sensuous dance that seemed to involve an inordinate amount of hip movement; at regular intervals one of the scarves would come off and slowly be discarded. Finally only the strategic areas were covered, along with the dancer's countenance. Enticingly the veil concealing her visage was removed, revealing, as he had known it would, a passionate Teyla. Her eyes fixed on him, her rhythm increased its tempo to the harmonies of invisible musicians. As she slowly began to unfasten the upper of the two remaining scarves, a hand suddenly shot in front of his mesmerized gaze, hurling a smoking liquid into her face. Screaming, she fell to the ground in agony, hands clutched to her injury. Jumping up, he raced to the side of the moaning young woman as blood began seeping from between her fingers. He pried her hands gently away so he could see the damage; a skull dripping gore stared back at him, then keeled over dead._

Major Sheppard sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. Sweat ran in rivulets down his back and beaded on his forehead; raising a shaking hand, he reached up to wipe them away. _'OK, that was ugly!'_ He forced a few slow, steady breaths, then gradually felt his heartrate return to normal. Suppressing an irrational desire to try to stumble around the ship until he found their Athosian guide, he rolled over and listened to the sounds of the quiet breathing of his companions. However, he didn't completely relax until he was sure that one of the two sleepers was Teyla.

The night was uncomfortably cold, and McKay cursed himself for agreeing to the last watch. Slapping his upper arms as he paced outside the shuttle, he reflected that at least he didn't have to worry about accidentally falling asleep. It was too frigid to even _think _about slumber. He startled for the thirtieth time that evening, shining his flashlight at the nearby bushes. _'I'd swear I saw something move!'_ Still, nothing stirred as he stared intently at the spot. Pulling another purplepeach out of his jacket, he resumed his pacing. He began to circle the ship again, to confirm the perimeter. _'Tomorrow I'm getting the external visual sensors online FIRST, before I even touch the flight controls. There's no way I'm doing this again, when I could be inside where it's warm, doing a more thorough check with the cameras.'_ He swung around in panic as a scuttling could be heard behind his back, but again there was nothing visible. "I'm letting my nerves get to me," he muttered nervously and walked on, often shooting glances over his shoulder despite his best efforts not to.

The dawn finally came, and with its arrival Rodney headed back inside. Going to their food stash, he grabbed a couple of the purple fruits and went forward to the external sensor array controls. By the time Ford and Teyla were up, he had reestablished their ability to scan 360 degrees outside the ship from the relative safety and warmth of the cockpit.

"Good thinking," commented Ford appreciatively. He hadn't enjoyed his watch outside much, either. Catching sight of the remnants of McKay's breakfast, he asked, "Don't you get tired of those things?"

McKay got defensive. "If I don't eat regularly, I get hypoglycemic; if I get hypoglycemic, I don't think clearly. If I don't think clearly, we end up doing unnecessary things like standing watch outside in the cold."

The lieutenant held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I didn't mean anything. It's just that personally, I like a little variety to my diet." So saying, he grabbed a handful of nuts and started shelling them.

Rodney's feathers smoothed as he realized the actual point of the comment hadn't been his continual eating. Shrugging, he replied, "For right now, I feel like I could eat these all day. What was it that the natives said about them?"

Ford chuckled. "That they would help 'make us brave', 'free us from fear', or something like that."

Teyla came up to where they were speaking. "The actual phrase was, 'separate you from your fears'."

Ford snapped his fingers. "Yep, that was it." He assumed the sing-song sonorous tones of the priest as he quoted, "This sacred fruit will separate you from your deepest fears, that you may look at them for what they really are."

Rodney looked dubiously at the half-eaten fruit in his hand. "I don't know; I felt _more_ frightened last night after eating several. It must have some cultural reference that we're not privy to." He thought for a moment, then continued, "Still, I _like_ them."

"Hey, if you're talking about those pitless purple peaches, I kind of like them, too." Sheppard's voice had improved with a good night's sleep.

"Then by all means you shall have them." Teyla was at his side instantly, placing one in his hand after helping him sit up. While he ate, she removed his bandages and cleaned the wounds. The swelling had gone down just slightly, but several of the lacerations seemed to be getting infected. She dug an antiseptic from the first aid kit and applied it to some of the deeper cuts.

John hissed as the stinging fluid touched the angrier wounds, but quickly controlled himself and allowed her to continue. When it was clear she was done, he asked, "What about the eyes? Do we need to wash them out again?"

"I am afraid that the light might damage them permanently if we allow them to open." She looked to Ford for support.

"Yeah, we ought to wait until Beckett can examine you," he readily agreed.

Sheppard sighed in frustration, but had to admit that permanent optic nerve damage as a result of impatience would be...well, stupid. "How about I try to help with the repairs?" he suggested to get his mind off his eyesight.

"Nothing personal Major, but right now you can't see; how can you help?" McKay was disdainful, but curious.

"I don't know for certain; I just seem so linked to the Ancient technology that I wonder if it wouldn't sense my handicap and take it into account."

Ford glanced at Rodney and shrugged. "Couldn't hurt." At McKay's nod, he helped the Major up and guided him to the demolished panel. Carefully feeling the pilot's chair before settling himself into it, he reached a cautious hand toward the blown-out components.

The moment his skin made contact, the viewscreen lit up with schematics, with the damaged components in red. "Hey, can you guys see this?" he asked.

McKay answered. "Yes, we can; can you?"

"It's like it's being drawn in my brain." He paused and concentrated. "OK, now I'm thinking about 'How do we fix it?'" A panel between the two front seats popped open, revealing a rather complete tool chest, as well as replacement parts. Ford scurried forward and collected it.

"Perfect." The lieutenant looked first at the panel, then at the diagram. "OK, sir, see if it will remain up after you take your hand away."

After concentrating on his desire to leave the schematics up, Sheppard slowly removed his hand. Unfortunately, the layouts immediately vanished.

"I guess you'd better get settled for a long sit."

TBC....

AN: FFnet still isn't counting 'hits' on stories – it says I have 0 hits on chapters 2 and 3, but I have several reviews on each chapter, so unless you guys have developed psychic powers, I'm guessing you read the chapter first. Anybody know how to fix this? I prefer watching the numbers on how many people read each chapter rather than begging for reviews. To whom do I report the problem? Anyone else having this difficulty? Thanks for your help!


	5. I Don't Like Spiders or Snakes

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.

**5: I Don't Like Spiders or Snakes...**

The repair work proceeded into the late afternoon, at which point it became obvious that the Major was on the verge of collapse. Teyla and Ford half-carried, half-dragged him to the pallet they'd set up on the floor. Before surrendering to unconsciousness, they managed to cajole him into choking down two more of the fruits he liked, while Rodney consumed four. Teyla and Ford opted for alternate menus. Sheppard actually fell asleep in the middle of chewing a bite of the second one. Teyla tenderly settled him in and tucked the blankets tightly around his exhausted form.

_'She'll make a good mother someday,'_ thought Aiden fondly. "Does anyone have a preference as to which watch they take tonight?"

"I'd like the first one. I'm not sleepy, and I remember the diagrams well enough to do some more work on the flight controls. I can do that and still keep an eye on the outside monitors." McKay was emphatic.

"As last night, I do not care." Teyla chimed in.

"Fair enough." Ford quickly decided. "McKay, you're first. Wake Teyla at midnight. Teyla, get me up at 0300. OK?" When everyone nodded in agreement, he smiled. "See you then." He gathered his own blanket and curled up on a flight couch. Teyla lay on the one nearest Sheppard so she could monitor him during the night.

Rodney happily puttered away, soldering connections and being rewarded as system after system showed green lights. _' Hah. By the times those laggards in Atlantis get around to rescuing us, we'll have done it ourselves.' _He was careful to keep his eyes on the outside monitors, however, as he was in full agreement with Ford about not being caught unawares by something nasty. The sooner they were off this rock, the better. He had just tested the engine-pod retraction mechanism when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye on the starboard front camera. Carefully setting down his tools, he went to look at that screen more carefully.

Nothing moved. He was about to attribute it to a figment of his overactive imagination when it moved again, this time in plain sight.

It was the largest spider he had ever seen.

It was black with yellow stripes, vaguely hairy, _and the size of a Buick!!!!!_ Now of all the fears Rodney had buried somewhere in his subconscious, one of the worst was a fear of spiders. It stemmed from a visit to his cousin's home in western Texas as a child, where the neighborhood boys with whom he was supposed to 'play' thought that it would be entertaining to introduce him to the local breed of tarantula by tossing one on him. He subsequently avoided both spiders and Texans with equal fervor.

_'That is physically impossible!'_ His rational mind tried to point out. _'No exoskeleton could withstand the pressure of supporting such a size. Also, spiders are ectotherms – if they existed on this frigid rock, they would be out during the day, not the night.'_ Still, his eyes kept telling him otherwise.

"Ford!" he hissed. "Ford, wake up. I need you to see something."

Aiden, battle-trained and a light sleeper in the best of circumstances, was awake in an instant, and quickly moved to where Rodney was staring at one of the viewscreens.

"Look there." Rodney pointed at the screen where the oversized spider crawled slowly across the landscape. "What do you make of that?"

The lieutenant carefully followed the direction of McKay's finger, to where it pointed at the forward starboard camera view. "What, the tree?"

"No, no. THAT!" Rodney placed his index finger on a patch of bare ground between the aforementioned tree and the ship.

"The ground."

McKay was verging on hysteria. "No, the _spider_."

Aiden carefully examined the screen and came up empty. Shrugging, he replied, "Nope, sorry. No spider."

_"How can you not see it; it's huge!"_ He listened to his own words, then repeated his own question, but less rhetorically. "How _can_ you not see it?" An unpleasant thought crept into his consciousness. "Unless it's not really there?" It would certainly explain the scientific improbabilities.

Ford raised an eyebrow. "There's nothing there, Doctor. No movement at all."

McKay closed his eyes, counted to five, then reopened them. The spider was waving a furred leg in his direction. Externally calm, he stated, "Ford, I have been working alone on the flight control board for the last two to three hours. On that viewscreen I am currently seeing a seven-foot-tall spider waving hello. In the morning when the Major wakes up, I suggest you recheck anything I might have done while hallucinating." With that, he passed out cold.

Somehow the Lieutenant managed to catch him before he hit the floor. "Teyla!" he called urgently. "I need a hand here." Teyla was at his side in an instant, supporting half of the astrophysicist's weight as the wrestled him to the couch she had just vacated. Taking his pulse, Ford noted that it was strong and steady, with a normal rate of 64.

"As far as I can tell, he just fainted." Aiden scratched his head in puzzlement.

"What has happened?" Teyla was still somewhat groggy.

Ford covered McKay with a blanket as he replied. "I'm not sure; he said something about seeing a giant spider that wasn't there, then passed out." He scratched behind his ear consideringly. "You know, he suggested that we might want to double-check his work. I think I'll do that right now. I don't think I could sleep, anyway." So saying, he rose and went back to the control panel.

_The Puddle Jumper wasn't beautiful in the classic F-16 style, but she had her own charm. Simple in shape, complex in design, and eminently functional, Sheppard found that the Ancient ship was the best he'd ever flown. He'd spent months teaching other Atlantis personnel to fly; since they were cut off from Earth, everyone needed a smattering of everyone else's skills. Now the time had come for Ford's first solo flight. The lieutenant had been talking of nothing else all week, and his excitement was contagious. Catching Sheppard's eye through the windshield, he grinned and waved. Sheppard smiled in return, giving him the 'thumbs up' sign and nodding. Ford visibly gulped, then nodded back. Looking down at the panel in front of him, he started the engines...and the cockpit burst into flames._

_"No!" Sheppard screamed. "Lieutenant, get out of there!" He ran for the Jumper regardless of his own safety, prepared to rush in and carry the young soldier out. His action was forestalled by the entire ship exploding. "Nnoooo!...." he screamed again, as debris rained down around him._

__

"Sir, wake up! Sir, it's just a dream." Major Sheppard shot up out of the midst of nightmare to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

A trembling hand rose to touch the bandages covering his eyes. "Ford?" The voice was small and tentative, throwing the young man for a second.

"Yes, Major, it's me. You were having a nightmare. You kept yelling in your sleep."

Sheppard placed a hand on Aiden's arm, just to assure himself that the Lieutenant was real. "Sorry; didn't mean to wake you."

Aiden chuckled. "Don't worry, you didn't. McKay's been working so hard at the repairs that he imagined something outside that made him faint dead away. I've been taking the rest of his watch while I recheck his work."

"Is he all right?" Sheppard worried about everyone it seemed, even their resident genius.

"Oh sure." Ford grinned. "Of course, we'll see how he feels when I wake him at 0400 to take the last part of _my_ watch."

----------------------------------------------------------

"Chevron 6." The wormhole reestablished with the familiar _ka-whoosh_ and the shield flared as it was bombarded by the reassembling sub-atomic particles at the event horizon. An obviously fatigued Dr. Weir, sighed; "Ok, shut it down." She glanced at her watch, "Re-open the gate at 0320. Let me know immediately if there's any change. I'm going to have to get some sleep. She turned wearily from the console and trudged wordlessly to her quarters. Had there been anyone in the corridors at that time of night they would have seen the worry etched on her countenance.

TBC...

AN: Well, still supposedly 0 hits despite all the wonderful reviews. Thanks WriterJC; I've sent a message via your suggestion. We'll see if it helps.


	6. It Had to be Snakes

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.

**6: It Had to be Snakes**

_The trudge home from school was often the least pleasant part of his day. The neighborhood children, having scented his fear of them years ago, often circled like jackals and tortured him to his front door. Today was no exception. He was nearly two blocks from home when he felt his TI-55 yanked out from under his arm. Holding the expensive (for that day) calculator triumphantly aloft, the bully had his back to Rodney as I he completely disregarded him as a threat._

_"Come on, Billy, give it back."_

_"Why should I?" sneered a familiar voice. McKay's brows knitted as he tried to place it._

_"Because it's mine, and I need it for my physics homework." Rodney patiently explained. Not that it would do any good in the end..._

_"Well then, come and get it," leered the older boy._

_Rolling his eyes, he turned and began walking again towards home. Why bother? He knew how this one went. He would lunge for the device, only to have it held out of his reach or tossed 'keep-away' style from one child to the next until someone broke it. After which, his father would spank him for destroying yet another school-required device and send him to his room without supper. Might as well cut to the chase; at least he wouldn't play their game._

_So resolved, he continued to walk on ignoring the taunts and catcalls. That is, until someone shoved him from behind into the back of one of the other gang members._

_"Hey, you lookin' ta fight?" drawled the dark-haired boy as he turned around._

_Rodney gasped in surprise. "Sheppard?"_

_"Yeah, that's my name. What's it to ya?"_

_"But...what..." Rodney stammered. "I didn't know you as a child!"_

_Another voice chimed in. "You were a weak loser then, you're a weak loser now. What's changed?" The dark-skinned boy spat contemptuously._

_"Ford?!?" McKay had never heard such derision in the Lieutenant's voice before, and found it difficult to accept._

_"Keep away!" called out another voice, female this time. He closed his eyes in despair as he recognized Teyla. The calculator soared over his head from one teammate to the next while he plodded on, discouraged._

McKay moaned in his sleep, restlessly tossing from side to side. Ford looked over from where he was working on the electronics, then shook his head. 'Must be the night for bad dreams. I think I'll just take my whole watch and let him catch up on his sleep.'

The next morning after breakfast, the four team members discussed McKay's spider. "It seemed very, very real. Only problem was that it _couldn't_ be, both logically and physiologically." He turned to the others, "Has anyone else seen anything?"

"You can count me out," chuckled Sheppard with grim humor. "I've had some...disturbing...dreams, though."

McKay looked up sharply from his examination of his own shoelaces. "Dreams?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Nightmares, more like."

"Nothing here, waking or sleeping." Ford reported.

"Nor here." Teyla regarded Rodney with some concern.

"Great. I had a doozy after I 'passed-out' last evening." McKay sprung up and paced as much as the cramped space would allow. "I can't be just losing my mind."

"Perhaps it's the stress of our situation," Teyla volunteered.

"I don't dare try to work on the wiring." He gestured helplessly at the panel. "I could blow us all to kingdom come!"

"I doubt that, McKay." Sheppard had already been eased into the pilot's chair, and had placed his hands on the controls. "From what I can tell, quite a bit of repair work has been accomplished since I conked out last night, and I see no new problems."

Rodney was somewhat mollified. "Well, good. I just don't know how long I was 'seeing things'."

"Was there anything else besides the spider?"

"Besides my worst fear? "

"Worst fear?" Sheppard interrupted. "You know, when I think about it, my dreams were pretty much pegging my worst fear as well. _'My fear of failing, and losing one of my men.'_

"Well, maybe that's it. We're in a stressful, fearful situation; this is a reaction." Ford was trying to be rational.

"But I wasn't afraid before the hallucination began," McKay protested. "I was actually rather pleased with the amount of work we had gotten accomplished."

"Perhaps your mind was telling you that you _should_ be afraid." Teyla was ever practical.

"Or maybe it's something environmental, that just affected McKay _first_." Sheppard suddenly sounded unexpectedly grim.

Ford shot him a look of surprise. "Why do you say that, sir? No one else has seen anything out of the ordinary. I mean, outside their dreams."

In reply, John moved his hand back to the control panel. "I'm thinking about this control board, and visualizing what's wrong with it." The familiar diagram popped up on the viewscreen, only instead of red wires that needed to be reconnected or bypassed, there was a mass of writhing snakes. Sheppard broke into a slight sweat. "To quote Indiana Jones: 'I hate snakes'."

"Oh, that is not good. Not good at all." McKay stated unnecessarily.

It was decided that Ford should assume primary repair duties, assisted by McKay, and Sheppard when possible. It was slow going without reliable schematics, but with the gene therapy and a bit of concentration, McKay could emulate Sheppard's earlier efforts to some degree. No one felt much like eating lunch, and by late afternoon the snakes had essentially gone away, allowing the work to proceed apace. When they finally stopped at Teyla's insistence for dinner, the mood had brightened significantly. Conversation centered on why two team members were seemingly affected, while the other two were not.

"What do the Major and the Doctor have in common, that does not pertain to you and I?" Teyla addressed Ford through a mouthful of MRE she had opened.

"They're both Caucasian men." Ford suggested.

"We both have 'the ATA gene', although mine was artificially introduced." McKay added.

"Until today, the two of us did most of the hands-on touching of the exposed panel wiring." Sheppard threw in.

Teyla's eyes grew wide. "And between the two of you, you have eaten over two dozen of the purple fruit. Dr. McKay has eaten the majority, but Major Sheppard has consumed little else."

Sheppard looked as skeptical as his bandages would allow. "You two have been eating them, too, haven't you?"

"No, I do not care for their taste." Teyla replied.

"And I pretty much got tired of them after the first night." Aiden commented, increasingly excited.

McKay was thoughtful. "I was actually eating one when I thought I saw movement our first night, and had just finished two when the spider showed up last night."

"Two made up my breakfast this morning," added John. "You don't suppose this is what they meant by 'separate you from your deepest fears', do you? Make us hallucinate? Have nightmares about things we fear?"

"'So you can face them'. I don't know sir, but I think we'd better stick to other foods until Dr. Beckett can analyze these things." Ford gathered back the edibles from the two men, went to store them with the rest, and returned with MRE's. "Here you go; at least we know what to expect from these."

McKay returned a dour look. Feeling the cardboard box, Sheppard muttered, "Yeah, indigestion."

TBC...

AN: Just one chapter left to go! For those of you who have pointed out that Stargate wormholes only go one way, I can only say that "I didn't know that!" Admittedly, it sure clears up a lot of questions about the series that I've had over the years. Still, it makes no intuitive sense; radio waves are streams of photons moving at a specific frequency. Microwaves are streams photons with a higher frequency/shorter wavelength, while light is even higher/shorter. Therefore, since the traveler is demolecularized into subatomic particles which are at a similar quantum level as a photon, it never occurred to me that they couldn't go both ways, too. Oh well, live and learn. I'll make sure that future stories take it into account!


	7. There's Got to be a Morning After

Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is not mine, and no profits are made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction and for fan enjoyment only.

**7: There's Got to Be a Morning After**

That night Rodney was excused from the watch; if it weren't the purplepeach, then he might hallucinate again, and there was no telling how he might react with a loaded weapon. Teyla and Aiden didn't mind splitting the night, with the understanding that McKay would resume main work on the controls in the morning. The night passed uneventfully, as did the next day. Towards evening, they were ready for a test flight.

"Ford, you'll have to pilot; McKay, you're copilot."

McKay objected. "I don't know anything about flying this ship."

"No, you don't," agreed Sheppard, "so you do exactly what Ford tells you to."

McKay chaffed but nodded, forgetting that the Major couldn't see him. Remembering himself, he replied aloud, "Sure 'leader', whatever you say."

Soon they were strapped in and ready. "Here goes nothing." Ford took a deep breath and hit the ignition. He didn't notice Sheppard's white knuckles as he recalled the shuttlepod nightmare.

The engines roared to life, and everyone let out collectively-held breath in one _whoosh. _They rose into the atmosphere effortlessly, and soon completed an orbit. Taking readings while aloft, McKay was pleased to announce, "Looks like one more day, and this area will be through the worst of the meteor storm."

"YES!" exclaimed Sheppard, at which the others grinned.

----------------------------------------------------------

"All right, be set to go in thirty minutes." Weir was developing an ulcer, waiting for the meteor storm to clear enough to safely send another jumper to search for their lost lambs. "Dr. Beckett, I need you to be ready to receive up to four casul..."

"Incoming wormhole!" The excited tech interrupted her. "Receiving Lt. Ford's ident!"

"Lower shield." The commander held her breath as she waited with the rest of Atlantis. A huge cheer went up as Jumper One emerged and slid to a halt. As it began its ascent, she turned to Grodin and began, "I'll be in..."

"The jumper bay," he completed for her, smiling.

She arrived just as the hatch opened. Rodney led out, followed by Sheppard being guided by Teyla and Ford. Weir turned to the nearby Sergeant as she caught sight of the bandages, "Go get Dr. Beckett. Tell him only one this time, but we need him, now." The Sergeant saluted and ran off.

"Rodney, what happened?" she asked as she approached the group.

"We almost died after a meteor strike disabled the Jumper on final approach to the Gate a few days ago. We crash landed on a barely habitable planet, but I was able to effect repairs to the electronics while Ford repaired the hull. Once we were up, it still took a while for the storm to clear." He smiled smugly. "And, here we are."

Just then Dr. Beckett with two corpsmen and a gurney in tow rounded the corner and rushed into the bay. "Major Sheppard! Can't you keep out o' trouble?" he exclaimed.

Sheppard grinned. "Doesn't look like it, Doc. Normally I'd say that I see way too much of you, but right now I'd really appreciate that particular sight, or practically any sight at all."

"Well, now, I've got your ride all arranged. If you'll have a seat..."

Sheppard grimaced when he realized that they wanted him to lie on a gurney for the short trip to the infirmary. As he opened his mouth to object, however, Beckett interrupted. "I'll not have any of your complaints, either. You will lie there until I can give you a proper exam." He glanced at the rest of the team. "Could someone come with us to tell me what happened?"

"Hey, I can talk! It was my eyes that were injured, not my mouth."

"Yes, but I'd like someone along who will tell the _whole_ story."

"I will accompany you." Teyla volunteered.

"Good lass." Beckett beamed approvingly, and the parade moved off, leaving McKay and Ford to brief Weir.

As the gurney slid past, she grasped the Major's hand. "Glad to have you back, John."

He gave a simulacrum of his usual cocky expression. "Glad to be here."

Weir turned to the two remaining men, but before she could speak, Ford interjected, "Don't let anyone unload the Jumper ma'am; not until Dr. Beckett has had a chance to check out some of the fruit we brought back."

"Oh?" she asked, eyebrow raised. _'This should be interesting'_ "So ordered. Why don't you two get yourselves checked out, then report to my office in an hour? I'd like a debriefing on everything that happened."

------

"Well, let's see: a concussion, first and second degree burns to the face and neck, superficially infected abrasions and contusions in the same distribution, a forehead laceration...that just leaves the eyes and the possible poisoning." Beckett ticked off Sheppard's injuries to himself as the Major forced himself to be quiet. "All right then. Major, I'm turning the lights in the room down to minimum, then I'm going to take the bandages off. I want you to keep both eyes closed until I tell you otherwise, understand?"

"Yeah." Sheppard licked suddenly-dry lips and concentrated on keeping his eyes closed. Beckett gently unwrapped the Kerlex until the patches could be visualized, then carefully pried them off. Taking a saline-soaked gauze, he washed off the dried blood and unstuck the Major's eyelashes. He then placed a dry gauze over the right lid and applied a slight pressure to keep it closed.

"OK. Now I want you to slowly open your left eye only. I'll keep the right shut for you. If there is much pain, close it again immediately."

John tentatively did as requested. His heart skipped a beat when at first he didn't see anything, but then the dim room came into focus. Carson's concerned blue eyes stared into his own.

"What can you see, Major?"

"Everything. It's slightly blurry, but I can see everything." His relief was audible.

"All right. Let's open the right."

The right eye opened with less trepidation. "Ditto. Slightly blurry, but otherwise OK." He blinked once or twice. "They both feel as if they have something in them, though. Only hurts when I blink."

"I'm going to check them out right now. First some drops to numb them, then a dye called fluorescein. It'll turn your vision yellow for a few hours, but it allows me to see any abrasions with a slit-lamp. And, no, before you ask, you cannot have the bottle to take with you."

The drops stung, then provided blissful relief from the sand-in-the-eyes sensation.. The exam proceeded apace. At the end, Beckett flicked off the exam light and concluded, "You're lucky Teyla was along; she cleaned them out admirably. You have bilateral corneal edema and some superficial keratitis from the flash burns, as well as some healing corneal abrasions from foreign bodies that she must have rinsed out." He reached for another eyedrop dispenser. "In addition to the antibiotics I'm going to give you for your face, I want you to put two drops of this in each eye every eight hours for the next week. Got it?"

Sheppard nodded, taking the bottle.

"Since you're already several days out from your head injury, you're OK to go. I want you to get plenty of rest, fluids, and take these pills twice a day." He handed over a bottle of antibiotics. "You are to check in with me daily until I tell you otherwise. Likewise, you are hereby medically relieved of duty until further notice." Beckett handed him a pair of dark sunglasses. "You'll probably find these helpful for a few days, at least in the brighter parts of the base. And if I hear of you doing anything unwise in the next few days, I will have them tie you to one of my beds and keep you here for the week." He gave him a smile and continued, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some fruit to check out for possible hallucinogens."

Sheppard sighed. Admittedly, he didn't feel much like going on a mission, but it would have been nice to be able to. Of course, on the plus side, he didn't have to spend the night in the infirmary. He cheered at that thought, then dressed and headed out into the hallway.

_'Damn, he's right about the glasses!'_ he thought as the normal lighting in the passage pierced his brain like a spike. He fumbled for and quickly donned the sunglasses, then breathed a sigh of relief. Once his eyes decided to speak to him again, he headed towards his quarters. Right now, all he wanted to do was lie down in his own bunk. Of course, that was as likely as a snowball surviving in Hell. He hadn't managed three steps before a delighted cry assailed his ears.

"Major! You're OK!" Ford's footsteps pounded up as he swung around.

"Well, I still have quite a headache, and the light hurts my eyes..."

"But you can see?" Teyla had joined the group.

Sheppard smiled crookedly. "Thanks to you, and your excellent first aid." His smile widened. "So, thanks."

"You are most welcome."

The three stood awkwardly for a moment until, predictably, McKay sauntered up. "Hey, anyone hungry? I'm off to the mess hall for a snack." He pushed past them without waiting for an answer.

Sheppard, Teyla and Ford exchanged glances, then the Lieutenant shrugged. "Shall we?"

"Why not?"

**Epilogue **

"So, what have you found?" Weir sidled up behind Beckett, who was immersed in his microscope.

The doctor straightened and wiped a hand across his eyes. "Well, the fruit itself isn't really the problem; it's the skin. It contains a compound that works at the level of the subconscious, literally. Apparently the fermentation process renders it inert, so the _wine_ is safe to drink."

Weir chuckled. "The base will be happy to hear that. Didn't Lt. Ford say something about the natives peeling the fruit before eating it?"

"Now we know why." Beckett spread his hands. "Anyway, the effects seem to wear off after six to eight hours, so SGA-1 is cleared from that standpoint."

Weir accompanied the physician to the coffeepot. As he poured a cup, she asked, "How _is_ Major Sheppard?"

"His eyes are healing nicely, and the facial injuries are closing now that we've gotten the infection controlled. I was going to release him back to limited duty tomorrow." He closed his eyes and inhaled the aroma before taking a long sip.

Weir nodded. "Good. He's beginning to go stir-crazy. Rodney has come to the conclusion that, _"since the Major has nothing better to do"_, he should help him out in the lab." She laughed aloud. "I think if he hears, '_Major, touch this_' one more time, he may scream."

Beckett seemed to consider this notion. "Could be...interesting. Better than me anyway"

Weir smiled and took his elbow. "Come on. Let's go get some real breakfast."

The End

AN: Well, I hope you liked it! I want to thank my wonderful beta-reader, my husband. He's the one you have to thank for a believable Rodney McKay; I keep making him too altruistic. The next story will feature Dr. Beckett, with some Sheppard-whumping thrown in for good measure!


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